Revived
by orsumfenix
Summary: Because Number Eight is simply too awesome to die. Fix-it.
1. Chapter 1

**_I finished Fall of Five two days ago, got really upset, and decided that I was going to write a fix-it. _**

**_So, here it is. This chapter is just an introduction, but hopefully I'll get the second chapter written and posted soon. _**

Every story has a beginning, and every story has an ending.

But not necessarily in that order. Some stories end with a beginning, and some stories begin with an ending.

The beginnings and endings aren't even the best bits. The best bit is the middle, when anything could happen, when all the actions happens. Any good author knows this.

But, for the purpose of this story, we're going to begin with beginning, and work our way through to the ending.

This story begins like any normal one would, with the birth of our main protagonist. We could work our way from there, but that would just be pointless.

Because that beginning is boring. That beginning is, admittedly, _a _beginning, but it isn't the best place to begin _at_.

The boy's story truly begins when his planet's story ends, a start from an end.

So, logically, as this is the start where his life begins to get interesting, this would be the best place to start.

But this story has been told many times, so many times that I'm sure you all know it by now. It would be silly to start where everyone starts, because what's the point in starting somewhere that doesn't immediately hook you?

So, no, we won't start there.

We could always start where he leaves all his friends and his old life behind, where his old identity is left on a ship and he is starting afresh on a brand new world.

But then we'd have to go through him learning things that we already know, and wouldn't _that _get annoying quickly?

We could start partway through, when his Cepan falls in love with a woman and his life begins to fall apart, but even the best storytellers know not to start in the middle of a story. You don't start at the best bit. That would just be silly, because then you'd have to tell the start at some other point and the rest would seem rubbish (and, while it is acceptable to have the start at the end, to have the start in the middle simply wouldn't fit).

I could always tell you the story from the death of said Cepan, where the boy's life truly becomes his own, where he has no one there to help him and must decide what to do for himself.

Or I could start where he meets Devdan, who helps him hone his powers and realise what his life is truly meant for.

Or I could start where Devdan disappears and he is alone again.

Or I could start where he meets the soldiers, and his life takes a rather interesting turn and he has to pretend that he is someone that he's not.

But I'm not going to start in any of these places, because we all know the outcome. Also, none of these are really _beginnings_, just more…_plot devices_, fillers.

However, I will not start where he leaves India behind, joins the people like him for an epic fight.

Because this part of his story has already been told, and nobody wants to hear a story that simply repeats a different one.

I'm not going to start at any point past this, where someone else has already told his story. You can't start in the midst of a different tale.

Where I am going to start is the end. Because this end is also a beginning, the beginning of a story that has not yet been told.

So, actually, no, we're _not _going to start at the beginning. We're going to start at the end, and work our way on from there.

So. We begin at the end.

* * *

He's close to Marina. The words are on the tip of his tongue, the words he's wanted to say for _so long _now.

_I love you. _

The words die on his lips. He opens his mouth, just _tell _her…

But his mouth isn't moving and his heart it's getting harder to breathe and he knows that this time he can't be saved and…

And he falls to the ground, the words left unsaid.

* * *

But…wait. I shouldn't have started there. That's the _very _end, but it tells us nothing.

We should start just a few minutes sooner. Yes, that will be the right place to start. That will tell us more. The beginning of the end.

* * *

The end comes in the form of a sword, and an insane friend.

No, really, it does. He's fought beasts and Mogodorians and soldiers and then, _boom_. One of his friends, someone he trusts, decides that _now _they're going to mention the fact that they work for the enemy.

He has to admit, it hurts.

Honestly, he thinks as he watches Five babble on about 'The Beloved Leader' (and isn't _that _a joke), the elders should have made some charm thing that didn't just prevent them being killed out of order – they should have made them a charm that prevented them from killing _each other_.

Really, they should have thought of this. Maybe they did, with their eternal wisdom and all that.

But as there was only nine of them to resurrect an entire world, it probably never even occurred to them that one of them would even _think_ about murdering another. So, then again, maybe they _didn't _think of this.

Because _he _never even considered it.

He fights that beast thing, taking all his anger out on it, imagining that it's Five's smug face that he's attacking. It works, fuelling his fury and letting him defeat it.

All too soon he's back in the mud and Five is in complete control of the situation.

He's fighting with Nine, the two of them using their Legacies and items from their chests to get at each other (personally he's on Nine's side, and he's pretty sure that Marina is, too).

He can't let them kill each other.

So he ends up in the middle, trying to get through to Five. It's obvious that Nine just wants to pulverize him (he can understand why), but killing Five will accomplish nothing. And, who knows, maybe one of Five's legacies is body swapping? (Though he seriously doubts it).

Five just won't listen. He thinks Five is insane. It's not a long shot.

Marina (bless her) uses her telekinesis to get rid of those damn balls, putting Five at a disadvantage. Pretty soon Five and Nine are fighting again, completely oblivious to the fact that two other Garde are there.

And then –

Then Five has a sword and –

And he's going to kill Nine and –

And –

And –

And he appears in front of the sword, the cold metal puncturing his skin and being driven straight into his heart.

Okay, so he just basically committed suicide. That wasn't how he planned on going.

The sword is gone from his chest. He looks down in a daze. Huh. There's not much blood.

Oh…wait. This is the cave painting, isn't it? So it was _Five _that killed him.

Instead of drawing his death, couldn't they have shown that Five was a traitor instead? That would have been helpful to know beforehand.

Actually, it would have been helpful to know all of this, this war, beforehand. It would have helped _a lot_. Maybe then he wouldn't be here, about to die, at the age of _seventeen _(it's meant to be his birthday in a couple months, he thinks with a pang. He's never going to turn eighteen. He's never going to live to adulthood).

All this thinking takes place in a couple seconds. He prepares himself for the darkness.

Wait. There's something important he has to do…something he has to say.

What does he have to say?

Oh, yes. Marina. He has to tell Marina about his feelings.

And he has approximately ten seconds in which to do it.

(He isn't stupid, he knows that he'll go soon. He just has to get those words out into the open.)

He looks up.

Five looks _gutted _(oh, yes, _now _you're sorry), Nine seems sad (Nine? Was he really that special?), Six is just waking up (why couldn't she have woken up _before _Five tried to kill them?) and Marina (Marina…)

He stumbles towards her slightly. He thinks his hands are outstretched, but he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything right now, except for that he…he has to tell…

What does he have tell Marina?

He loves her.

Loves who?

So, this is what it feels like to die. A bit less pleasant than he'd hoped, but he'd hoped not to die at all.

He's close to Marina. The words are on the tip of his tongue, the words he's wanted to say for _so long _now.

_I love you. _

The words die on his lips. He opens his mouth, just _tell_ her…

But his mouth isn't moving and his heart it's getting harder to breathe and he knows that this time he can't be saved and…

And he falls to the ground, the words left unsaid.

* * *

There. That's better.

Number Eight's life began millions of miles away on a far off world. He has had many beginnings, but his ending was on Planet Earth a couple months before his eighteenth birthday.

That's his ending. But that's also his beginning.

* * *

The Mogodorians have a mission – kill all Garde.

Considering the amount of Garde there actually are, this sounds like it should be a fairly simple task. It's easy, really – just search for leads on the whereabouts of nine extraordinary teenagers. None of them are actually that good at blending in. Each is a magnet for trouble.

Sure enough, three are found and killed. All are found, actually, but the thing is…they can only be killed in a certain order.

Of course, as soon as they meet up, this charm is broken, and each Garde is fair game. So none of them can actually make a move against the Mogodorians alone, and together they are all vulnerable. The gift that protects them also curses them.

And having scars on their ankles and special powers tends to draw attention to them, making it so much easier for them to be tracked.

The Mogodorians also know exactly what to look for, with computers and researchers and all sorts at their disposal.

All in all, this situation works for the Mogodorians quite well.

* * *

When he is on his own in the mountains, when he goes to sleep in the cave with the strange paintings (and, yes, he has chiselled off his face – he's too young to die) for the first time, he dreams of Lorien.

It's beautiful, with a bright blue sky and shining suns and glistening water. He lived by the water, a huge river that the chimera would drink from every day. It's one of the few things he remembers about his planet.

He dreams about it. He's standing facing the water, looking out at the vast amount of blue.

There's a woman there, a woman with curly hair and deep green eyes. She looks similar to him, so similar that she must be his mother.

She smiles and cocks her head at him. She's just standing there, in front of the water, smiling. Her eyes twinkle in the sunlight.

"My son," she says. She's actually speaking in Loric, but somehow he knows what words she is saying. He blinks and she's right in front of him, brushing some of his own curls from his face.

"Mother," he says against his will, as if something else is controlling him. He, too, is speaking in Loric, something he can't possibly do when he's awake.

She smiles even wider.

"You have grown so tall."

She brushes against his cheek.

"I miss you," she whispers. "I miss you so much."

He jerks awake to an empty cave, the echoes his mother stuck in his mind.

* * *

There's something that you have to understand. Loric biology is different to that of a human. It is quite a lot more advanced. It allows room for powers, Legacies, as they call them, and is more quickened when it comes to healing.

Not a lot faster, mind you. Not fast enough to heal wounds in a snap. But fast enough that it isn't possible for a member of the Loric to die from blood loss.

Slow enough so that being stabbed through the heart will kill them.

But, still, fast enough that you could say that their healing rate is significantly faster.

Lorien is alive, and a part of it lives in every member of people who were born there. It can, on occasion, if it is desperate, heal fatal wounds.

It can't, however, heal someone who's already dead.

So, even if Lorien could heal the wound in Eight's heart, his soul would still be lost.

* * *

As I have said before, not all endings necessarily mean that the story is finished.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

* * *

After the end, there is an icy cold feeling that settles all round the body.

Of course, the owner of the body isn't alive to register this, so it goes unnoticed.

The ice block surrounding the body melts away just moments later, but the icy feeling remains (again, the body is just what's been left behind, a remnant, if you wish).

"I'm sorry," is whispered, before the owner of the voice flees and leaves the body behind.

* * *

In a jungle on a small island that you probably don't even know the name of, there lies an unmoving body with a still heart.

But then…

Just…

Just a slight…

_Thump. _

A single heartbeat.

_Thump. Thump. _

A heart that has been stabbed begins to beat.

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

_Thump. _

Startling green eyes shoot open.

**_Thanks for reading, and please REVIEW! _**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you_**_**for all the support I've **__**received**__**! I'm so glad other people like this so far! **_

_**I'm not sure if this chapter is as good as the last one, but there ya go. PLEASE review! **_

His first thought – that he is _really _cold.

Seriously, though, he is. _Freezing _cold.

His mind is slow, hazy. It struggles to process what's going on. Who are the people crowding him? Where is he? How did he get here?

He tries to think back. What the hell is going on?

One of the people around him (Mogodorians, the active part of his brain realises, that's what these figures are) gasps loudly, the rest muttering stuff in a language he doesn't recognise.

"That's impossible!" someone says in English, and he wants to laugh because _if something's happening, then it's clearly __**not **__impossible. _

Besides, he doesn't frankly _care _if whatever's happening is impossible. What he wants to know is what actually _is _happening.

He tries to open his mouth to say something ("What the hell is going on?"), only to find that his mouth isn't co-operating. Sure, it opens, but no words come out, none of the questions he so desperately wants to ask.

It gives him déjà vu. The feeling of him trying to say something, but his mouth refusing to work.

_(He's close to Marina. The words are on the tip of his tongue, the words he's wanted to say for so long now. _

_I love you. _

_The words die on his lips. He opens his mouth, just tell her… _

_But his mouth isn't moving and his heart it's getting harder to breathe and he knows that this time he can't be saved and… _

_And he falls to the ground, the words left unsaid.) _

He gasps, the details coming back to him. He should be dead. Why isn't he dead?

Not that he's complaining, of course.

He manages to move his head slightly. There is a chorus of gasps from all around him. He can understand their surprise now – he was murdered, and now he's alive.

He somehow manoeuvres his head far enough up so that he can see his chest, the place where his heart is.

"Oh my god," comes out of his mouth, shocking him because _now _his mouth starts working. Then, "there's a hole in my chest!"

It would sound funny if it wasn't true. Sure enough, there was an ugly hole right where the heart is, made when the sword punctured the skin and went into his chest. His heart is still there, by the looks of it, probably still beating, even though he can tell that it was previously stock-still.

"Eight?" a voice says. He recognises it…Whose voice is that…?

Oh yeah. Five. The guy that betrayed them all. The guy that 'killed' him (though he didn't succeed by the looks of it).

He wants to get up and attack the traitor, but he's tired and he's cold (_freezing_) and his body isn't working anyway (and he has a hole in his chest, which is a joke – honestly, _a hole_).

"Five," he manages to slur, mind racing. Why does it have to be _Five _he wakes up to? Why not Marina or Ella or Six…? Hell, even _Nine _would be preferable to Five.

Where were the others, anyway? Shouldn't they be here helping him?

Wait.

Do they even know he's alive?

He tries to ask Five, ask him where the others are, why he's still alive. Surely, _he _knows what's going on. Maybe it was Five that saved him. Maybe it was some strange Mogodorian medicine.

But…why would the Mogodorians want to save him? Aren't they the ones trying to kill him?

There's no time to ask, because before he's aware of what's going on, someone (stocky, brunette, short hair – Five) lifts him up in a surprising show of strength and begins to carry him somewhere.

Some part of him can tell that he's being taken on board a Mogodorian ship, probably to a second death, but he's so _tired _and he feels ice cold and he just wants to _sleep_…

So he does.

* * *

It's a strange thing, love.

Humans have a habit of falling in love with multiple people, sometimes at different points in their life, sometimes two people at once.

Loric are different. They love only once, wholly and fully. When they love, they do so with every fibre of their being, dedicating themselves to that person. It's like soul-mates.

Except that they don't call it love. They call it Adorai.

There is, of course, exceptions.

Adorai is similar to love, but is stronger. There is no moving on after that. Adorai happens with one person. If the person that you love dies, you can settle down and be content with someone else, but it's not the same. It wouldn't be _true _love – it would be satisfaction.

A Loric can fancy two people at once, can find themselves torn, but one would be liked to a lesser extent.

If a Loric were to fall in love with a human, it would be a rather strange thing.

It would be stronger than human love, but a lot weaker than Adorai. Lodorai, or Adove, or something along those lines. A mix between the two.

Falling in love with a human is seen as a gift _and_ a curse by the Loric. It's still love, you'll still be happy, but it isn't as good as Adorai, it can't possibly compare. Any children had will be more human than Loric.

It's worse for a human falling for a Loric. They feel as if they simply aren't good enough, that anything they do simply will never be as good as what their partner can do. Even when a Cepan falls for a human, they have superior healing and skills, better reflexes.

A love between the two species almost always ends badly, with a breakup and two broken hearts.

Two Loric in love are, of course, infinitely different.

* * *

An ending doesn't always mean it's the end.

Sometimes, an ending marks someone else's beginning. Sometimes, an ending is merely an interval.

Sometimes, the ending isn't an ending at all. Sometimes, there is an epilogue, something that comes afterwards.

The case here would appear to be that the ending was not like most endings.

* * *

To wake up after dying is a strange thing.

It's even stranger to know that you're not waking up to heaven, or hell, or any kind of afterlife. It's even stranger to know that you're going to be waking up to the world as you left it, albeit in a different position and probably in a slightly different location.

It's not really strange to wake up and be tied to a bed.

Honestly, he can't bring himself to be surprised. He's been taken 'hostage' by his number one enemies, whose ally killed him, then he woke up…

He wouldn't be all that shocked if he woke up in a cell chained to a wall.

As it is, he's woken up in a surprisingly clean room (yeah, it's the cleanliness of the _room _that surprises him most), lying on a comfy white bed (that's surprise, too) with no visible cameras (again, shocking) with those weird white restraints on his wrists and ankles (that's really _not _a surprise).

_Is_ he in heaven, actually?

No, if he was in heaven he wouldn't be tied down.

Hell, then?

Hell would not be this clean.

Maybe he's in limbo, then. Maybe he really _did _die, and the bit where he woke up was some weird vision thing.

The possibility of that fades as a blue door opens and Five walks through, an ugly scar marring his face and an empty socket where his left eye should be. He's limping on his right leg, something that he didn't notice as he was carrying him.

He can't bring himself to feel pity for the guy. A dodgy foot and a missing eye is infinitely better than death.

Plus, Five is the one who killed him. Why _should _he feel sorry for him?

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Five says, looking him in the eye. Eight wants to laugh.

"Sorry for what?" he spits, grateful that he actually can _speak_. "For betraying us? It's a bit late for that now!"

"I'm sorry for killing you," Five simply says, somehow remaining calm. He gives Eight a once over. "Not that it means much now, seeing as you're alive and all."

_Obviously. _He isn't _that _stupid.

He chooses not to voice his thoughts, instead opting to stay silent, glaring at the brunette. It wouldn't mean much even if he was still dead.

"It was a mistake, you see," Five continues, sitting on a white chair that he hadn't really noticed before. "I never meant to kill you. I meant to kill Nine."

"What, and killing _him_ would have been alright?"

Five looks at him sharply.

"It would have been _necessary_."

Eight snorts, but doesn't say anything else.

Five gets up and walks out, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

To begin at the end requires you to understand the end.

Or, at least, it would imply that you do. Not everyone understands endings, and not everyone even understands their own ending.

Number Eight understood _his _ending, but he certainly doesn't understand what came after.

No one does. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

The most surprising thing is that, after Five has left, Setrakus Ra walks in and undoes the restraints.

Eight tries to teleport away (why didn't he think of this sooner?), but his legacies fail him at that moment, as if he doesn't even _have _special powers. So he tries lift his legs up instead, to get up and make a run for it. His reflexes are still enhanced, after all.

But his legs refuse to co-operate, much in the same way that his mouth did earlier. His legs aren't working and his arms won't budge and the only thing he can move is his head.

"Why are you untying me?" he can't help but ask. "Aren't you worried I'll attack you?"

Setrakus bares his teeth in what's probably meant to be a smirk.

"You're very weak, Number Eight. You can't even move your legs. I don't think you'd be capable of putting up a fight."

As much as he hates to admit it, it's true. He doubts he'd be able to stand, let alone peg it out.

A Mogodorian enters, pushing a wheelchair. Setrakus gestures to it.

"Would you like a seat?"

It takes a moment for his words to register. A wheelchair? Seriously?

He cocks an eyebrow.

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Ra raises an eyebrow as well, mimicking the Garde.

"On the contrary, it would appear that you are currently incapable of walking or transporting yourself. This will have to suffice."

Perhaps the most surprising thing about this is the language that Setrakus (and, yes, he's calling his worst enemy by his first name – why not?) is using. It's sophisticated stuff. If he's honest, he's struggling to comprehend what the Mogodorian is actually saying.

It's funny, really. The guy with special powers that managed to cheat death is being placed in a wheelchair by his worst enemy. Said enemy is talking to him casually as if they're best friends and not currently at war with each other.

Actually, scrap what was said before. The most surprising thing by _far _is that Setrakus is being _nice _to him.

Yes. You read that right.

And isn't _that _scary?

(It would be like Nine suddenly announcing that Five is his best friend and that fighting is pointless and that he plans to join a group of hippies. Yeah, it's _that _strange.)

So, Setrakus Ra has just picked him up and put him in the wheelchair without effort. And, seeing as he's finding it hard to even move, there isn't a damn thing he can do to stop it.

* * *

_No no no no no. _

It's all she can think as she pegs it away, gripping the hands of her fellow Garde tightly. She's leaving behind the boy she loves (dead) and the boy she hates (unfortunately, alive).

_No no no no no. _

Only a few days ago they were laughing and chatting as they walked down the busy streets of Chicago. He promised her more days like that. He never got the chance to keep his promise to her.

_No no no no no. _

He tried to say something to her. She'll never find out what it was.

_No no no no no. _

She really did love him.

_No no no no no. _

But now he's gone, and she'll never know if he felt the same way.

_No. _

* * *

Every story has a beginning, and every story has an ending.

But not every beginning is a start, and not every ending is a finish.

That would appear to be the case here.

* * *

To be wheeled down corridors in a wheelchair by your worst enemy is _very _embarrassing.

Or, at least, it is for Number Eight.

He's leaning back, glad that he's wearing the comfortable clothes he was when he died.

The hole in his chest is, unfortunately, on full display. All the Mogs that walk past shoot looks of disgust his way – probably thinking that he's weak. He doesn't even disagree.

His chest physically aches. There's a dull throb in the place that the sword went into him, into his heart. He shivers just thinking about it.

"Where are you taking me?" he can't help but ask, ignoring the glare he's receiving from a passing Mogodorian. Because, really, they're on a ship so he can't be going _that _far.

"We're taking you to be examined by our doctor."

Wait… Mogodorians have doctors? But… they view each other as expendable, right?

Right?

Wrong, apparently.

"Why am I still alive?" he finds himself asking, wishing he was strong enough to stand up and face Setrakus. "I mean, your soul purpose in life is to kill the Garde, right? You directly tried to kill me. And, here I am, completely at your mercy…and I'm still alive. You haven't killed me."

He can't see the Mogodorian, but he can envision the way he might be raising his eyebrows (Eight thinks that, in a different life, Setrakus Ra might have actually been his friend).

"You make it sound almost as if you _want_ to die." _Way to go, Eight. _

He has to admit it – it did sound that way. But he's died once. _Not _doing it again anytime soon.

"I don't," he says hurriedly, knowing that Ra is probably smirking behind him. "I just… I'm just curious, that's all."

There is silence for a few seconds, than Ra seems to settle on an answer.

"We want to know how you managed to survive. You're going to tell us. These, ahem… _tests _should provide us with the answers, but I want to hear it from you."

"I don't know," he answers completely honestly. "I really don't know. It just kinda _happened_."

It's almost as if he's forgotten that he's talking to Setrakus Ra, with the way he's just casually mentioning his opinions.

"I think you do know."

"Well, I don't know. Trust me." Did he just tell his greatest enemy to trust him? (Yes.)

"I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry you don't believe me, but that's the truth, so -"

"Tell me what you know!" is shouted, and before he's aware of what's happening, his wheelchair is being spun around to face the Mogodorian. Setrakus shoves his face uncomfortably close to his own, stinky breath easy to smell.

Some Mogs that were walking down the corridor are now staring at them. None look as if they're going to stop Setrakus – in fact, a lot of them look as if they're getting a kick out of it.

"Nothing!"

"You were stabbed through the heart!" Ra snarls. "Tell me how you lived!"

What he said before about Setrakus being his friend? Yeah, scrap that.

* * *

It is said that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

This is not true. If it were true, perhaps Number Eight would have woke up in a panic, convinced that he was about to be locked away. If it were true, Number Eight would have noticed all the little things Five had done or said that basically told them outright that he was a traitor. If it were true, then maybe Number Eight would have noticed that he met his Adorai.

But this isn't true, so none of these things happened.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I am SO SORRY for taking so long to update! This chapter was really hard to write (for some reason) and... holidays are over now. No one will be able to update that much. Or, at least, not easily. **_

_**Hopefully, this chapter doesn't disappoint. **_

_**I don't know how many chapters I'll make. Probably somewhere between ten and fifteen, maybe more, maybe less, depending on how many you guys want. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don not own/claim to own Lorien Legacies. Just this story's plot. **_

"Where am I supposed to go?" he asks in desperation, grateful that someone's helping him but not that said person is only helping him to a certain point. "My legacies aren't working, I have a hole in my chest and I can't even walk for myself!"

"Not my problem."

* * *

Wait.

That's too far ahead. You can't be told the twist before you know the rest of the story.

Maybe a quick explanation.

Heroes, and fairytales.

* * *

In typical fairytale, we have a prince and a princess. It typically begins with them falling in love at first sight, and typically ends with them marrying.

But this doesn't happen in real life. The guy doesn't always get the girl. They don't always both survive to the end.

In a fairytale, the prince undergoes a hard journey to save the kingdom, completes the journey, saves the princess and gets his happily ever after.

But this isn't a fairytale, and a journey may be for nothing more than to find his loved one.

In a fairytale, the prince chooses to be hero. It is automatically assumed that all heroes have a choice in the matter, that all heroes get happy endings, that all heroes remain heroes for the rest of their lives. This, too, isn't true.

Especially the happy ending part. Heroes don't get happy endings.

Because the thing about heroes is that, a lot of the time, they just get lucky. And, one day, their luck always runs out.

* * *

When one is a Garde and being analysed by a Mogodorian doctor, it is pretty much needless to say that is awkward.

Well, it is for Number Eight, anyway. He's sitting in a wheelchair (still not over that) while one of his worst enemies does weird stuff, like check his heartbeat and poke the hole in his chest (funnily enough, it doesn't hurt).

"Do you remember anything about your time being dead?"

Well, isn't that cheery?

"No," he admits, telling the truth. "Just… darkness."

"What about the Loric after life?" Setrakus asks, dark eyes settling on his face and sending shivers down his spine. That _look_…

Wait.

There's a Loric afterlife?

"Nothing," he says. "There was nothing."

* * *

And there _was _nothing. Just the silence and the emptiness and the cold (frozen in an ice block, remember?) and just _nothing_.

That is what he remembers. The darkness of the mind. Our worst nightmare.

He will do _anything _not to go back there.

* * *

"Fascinating," the doctor guy says, jotting something down on a clipboard. Honestly, he feels like a lab-rat, just sitting under a microscope unable to fight back.

Ra actually looks furious.

"No afterlife?" he says slowly, as if struggling to wrap his mind around the concept. "After death, there is… nothing."

"That's right," he confirms, wanting to bolt away from the dark look the Mogodorian's sending him. "Nothing. Not even a tiny flicker of light."

"WHAT?!" Setrakus suddenly yells, looking more furious than Eight's ever seen him. "There is _no _afterlife? **_NO _**_afterlife_?!"

"Something tells me you don't appreciate that," he says weakly.

* * *

Despite what you may think, Mogodorians are not completely heartless monsters.

In fact, they used to be quite loving creatures, with a simple curiosity for the world. They had a love even stronger than the Adorai of the Loric. They were, actually, quite good friends with the Loric.

But _so many people _died in their society. So many it was _unreal_. At least double the amount of people a day than on Earth now.

As all their loved ones died, the Mogodorians comforted themselves with the fact that they had gone to a better place, where everyone could live happily.

But this one thought, this one thing, drove some Mogodorians mad.

Because the mistake that a lot of children made as they were growing up, was that, because they'd be sending them to a better place, that meant that it would be 'okay' to kill them.

And as those children grew up and taught _their _children, this idea got passed down and spread to so many Mogodorians that it was soon like all of them believed it, like it was a major religion that had taken over their minds. It was this one captivating thought that murders could use to get off trial, that could excuse all these heinous crimes.

But Mogodore soon descended into chaos, as it always was going to ever since this started.

Death no longer became a fact of life, but a necessity. The hunger for blood overtook their minds. They thought that, yes, death was bad, but it was _okay_.

So genocide became essential. It was the only way to move forward, to accomplish great and new things.

The Loric were just casualties. And, really, they did them all a favour – no grieving, no sadness. All sent to the afterlife at once.

Somewhere along the line, true love disappeared for the Mogodorians.

The Loric Nine, well, they're just more casualties. They are a threat that could bring down the whole empire, with their petty ideas about death and clear black and white view of the world. And so…

The Mogodorians have a mission – kill all Garde.

Considering the amount of Garde there actually are, this sounds like it should be a fairly simple…

(I've told you all this before. I have, go back. You won't want to read this again, so I'll miss it out.)

And thus, we have accomplished the current point in this story (or thereabouts).

* * *

Or, maybe we need a little more background.

* * *

Setrakus Ra. Let's learn about him.

* * *

No one is born evil.

No, really, it's true. _No one _is born evil – it's a process, they _become _evil.

Of course, a certain type of person is needed, where two people have the same upbringing and yet end up on different sides. But, in general, it's more circumstances that make a path leading onto evil.

Some people say it's a choice. It's not.

Well, okay, occasionally it _is_, but mostly don't _get _a choice. Stuff happens to them, they think that they're the good guys, and by the time they realise that what they're doing is wrong it's too late.

Some people relish the thought that they're evil, indulge in it and take great pleasure in seeing pain. These people are also often insane.

Setrakus Ra, like most children, was born innocent.

He was pure. Not an ounce of badness in him. Just your typical Mogodorian new-born.

He grew up with his father, his mother having been killed in childbirth.

"Why are you not sad?" he asked his father one night. "Mommy died, and you're not sad?" As a child, Setrakus Ra was, in fact, quite adorable.

"I'm not sad because death is a part of life," his father answered after many moments of silence. "Besides, she's in a better place now. That isn't a_ bad_ thing."

That was the day the idea that corrupted most Mogodorians wormed its way into Setrakus Ra's head and made a nice little home for itself there.

"I don't want to die," he announced to the boys he hung out at breaks with, years later. They all scoffed.

"Why not? You go to a better place."

"I know," he asserted. "But I don't want to go there. I'm going to live forever."

"Death claims us all in the end," Andrekus Sutekh, ever the wise one, told him.

"Well, I'm going to be the exception to that rule," he said, looking them all in the eyes. "I am going to achieve immortality."

They all snorted.

"Yeah, good luck with that."

And then they were back to talking about the piken matches in the arenas and forgot all about what he'd just said.

Setrakus wasn't really evil yet, not at all. He wasn't even evil when he got out some blank blueprints and started making plans for immortality.

Because, no, becoming evil isn't just an overnight process. It doesn't happen at the flick of a switch. It's a gradual process, one that takes time.

In the path to becoming evil, there are often many points where someone can go another way, can become the good guy.

But these aren't choices, because the person isn't even aware that these opportunities are there, that they're even on the path to being evil.

Setrakus Ra was no exception to this rule.

(Somewhere along the line, in his path to leadership, Setrakus Ra's mind became twisted and evil. No one's quite sure when it happened, but only that it did, and that it was the afterlife and immortality that drove him to it.)

* * *

No one is born evil. Not even every evil person _knows _that they're evil.

But here is where Setrakus Ra _is _the exception. He's evil and he knows it. He's proud of it.

* * *

Eight is seriously scared right now.

He is, he really is. He's got an angry Mogodorian is his face, one that clearly hates him with every fibre of his being. It scares him, to be honest. He's fully expected to die again, to go back to the darkness without any of the other Garde even knowing that he came back to life in the first place.

Wait… does that mean that their scars have faded, seeing as he's back alive and all?

He wonders if his own scar has burned onto _his _ankle.

He's about to check when he realises that he's still got Setrakus Ra uncomfortably close to his face, teeth bared (he seriously needs dental floss) and… growling?

Ra grabs his shirt (the same shirt he died in, still with his blood staining it slightly) and leans in closer, until their eye to eye.

"The afterlife is _real_," he hisses, eyes filled with a burning fit of fury. "_You _probably just aren't worthy of going there."

(But Setrakus Ra is only trying to convince himself and both of them know it.)

"Of course," the Mog doctor, who Eight had forgotten was there, interrupts as Setrakus pulls away from the Garde. "He's Loric. They are unworthy of _life_, never mind _after_life."

"And yet," Setrakus says, lost in thought but still with his empty eyes baring into Eight's skull. "This one is apparently worthy of returning to life, even after death." He pauses for a moment, eyes searching the younger boy.

There is silence.

"Keep him alive," he finally declares, walking out without a second glance. "He could be important. And…" Eight can just imagine the smile. "I still want to know how he came back."

* * *

"It _should _be your problem," he retorts, folding his arms. "_You're _the one who's going to be in for it if I get caught."

"Well," the other person replies. "You'll be in hot water, too. Besides, this is all I have to do to work off my debt."

He pauses.

"What debt?"

* * *

No. You still don't know enough.

* * *

He is wheeled back to his room by a big, beefy Mogodorian who stares at him for prolonged amounts of time.

It's quite intimidating.

* * *

"Once, this guy saved my life. He didn't have to. He could have left me to die. We weren't even on the same side. We were enemies, in fact. We hated each other. But he saved me anyway.

"I guess, eventually, we sort of became friends. Neither of us killed each other, I didn't rat him out. He should have ditched me as soon as I was fine, but allowed me tag along anyway, even though I was probably going to either kill him or turn him in.

"I was going to, at first. Then I sort of… changed my ways, I guess you could say. We parted ways eventually, me re-joining the Mogs. But he still saved my life. I still owe for him that.

"So this is me, paying off my debt. He would've wanted me to do this. It's not my problem if you have nowhere to go – it's just my problem that you get out alive."

* * *

He spends the next week alone.

That same Mogodorian comes in from time to time, delivering food and drink. The water is warm and tastes horrible, and the food is some weird porridgey stuff glooped on stale bread, but it's _food and drink_, so he digests it nonetheless (he never thanks the guy who delivers it – he's still being held captive).

He's still in that room he woke up in. it's still clean but plain, and he's still stuck in a wheelchair.

The use of his arms have come back, which is a relief, as he can eat his food without resistance. But his legs still refuse to budge and his arms aren't really strong enough to do anything much.

Five and Setrakus Ra haven't come to visit him since they left him, and he's certainly not complaining.

Much to his surprise, a bunch of movies and a TV are sent in to him. Perhaps Setrakus Ra is trying to convince him to tell him how he came back to life (though he _genuinely _doesn't know), or maybe Five has taken pity on him. He doesn't know, and doesn't particularly care.

Watching the movies feels like giving in to temptation, and therefore his enemies. But the boredom is soon too much and he watches the movies.

(They are all, he notes, romantic movies in which one of the main protagonists dies, like Titanic and Moulin Rouge. It reminds him so much of him and Marina, and he can't help but feel as if someone is trying to spite him. They probably are, actually.)

All in all, he is treated quite well considering the circumstances.

* * *

One day, not a particularly eventful one, just one where he's watching Titanic for the fifth time, the same Mogodorian that delivers his food wheels his chair out of his room.

"Does Setrakus want to see me again?" he asks, picking at the hem of his shirt. It's the same one he 'died' in, still with his blood on it. The soldier mutters a no…

And that's when he notices two guards unconscious on the floor.

"What the -" he starts to say, but is cut off by a large hand being placed over his mouth. He looks up to see the Mogodorian place a finger on his lips, before removing his hand and starting to wheel him to the right, a direction he didn't get to go in as he went to see the doctor guy.

As they silently walk down corridors, he takes the opportunity to study his pusher. The guy looks like your average Mogodorian, with bulging muscles and empty eyes. But this one seems to be helping him… why?

Pretty soon they reach their destination – the shuttle bay (yes, they're still on board the ship, and, yes, the ship has a shuttle bay). The Mogodorian (he really needs to come up with a name for that guy) parks the wheelchair and types in a concealed code, making the doors slide open. All too soon Eight is actually _inside _a shuttle, watching the beefy guy starting up the engine.

"What are you doing?" he asks, wondering why a Mogodorian is helping _him_. The guy himself spares him a brief glance before going back to whatever he's doing.

"Don't mistake this as me pitying you," is all the answer he receives, which doesn't really answer his question. "Mogodorians don't show pity. Only strength."

"Then what _are _you doing?" he asks, exasperated.

"What I feel I have to," the guy replies, hitting a button which causes the shuttle to awkwardly jerk into the air. He faces the Garde properly now, empty eyes still looking right into his soul. "I'll get in huge trouble if I'm caught, so I'll have to cover my tracks carefully. I can't come with you."

"Answer my question," is all he says, tilting his head to one side. "Why are you helping me?"

"Look, you were brought back for a reason," the Mog says, typing a couple more commands into the control panel. "Something tells me it isn't to hang around Setrakus Ra watching movies. Also, I owe someone something."

"But…" he pauses, realising something. "You said you're not coming with me?"

"That's right." He doesn't even look up.

"You're not taking me somewhere safe?"

"Nope."

"Where am I supposed to go…?"

"Not my pro…"

"Well, it _should_…"

(Etcetera etcetera.)

* * *

You can pretty much figure out what happens next, by adding up all the little snippets that were told before. I won't bore you by repeating them all and letting you hear them again.

Instead, I'll skip up to where I left off…

_("So this is me, paying off my debt. He would've wanted me to do this. It's not my problem if you have nowhere to go – it's just my problem that you get out alive.") _

* * *

He's quiet for a moment, simply because he can't think of anything to say.

Then, "who are you, anyway?"

"Who I am is not important."

"Well I want to know," he presses.

"Fine," the Mog guy sighs. "My name is Rexicus Saturnus."

Then Rexicus Saturnus runs through the doorway and jumps onto the floor, the ramp at the side, and the doors close behind him.

Then the shuttle takes off, and Number Eight is alone once more.

* * *

This safety might be only temporary, but it's one step closer to a happy ending.

**_Thank you to everyone who's read, faved, followed, reviewed or even thought about this story. It means so much to me that people like this. _**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sorry for taking so long to update! I didn't get round to writing most of this until today, when I just woke up and thought "that's it, I'm going to update today. I'm determined." **_

_**And... here's the update. I don't think I really need to say this, but I don't own Lorien Legacies or the characters. **_

_**Please review! **_

When One dies, it doesn't feel as though she's dying. It just feels as though she's going to sleep, that's all. Not as though she's dying, leaving forever. Just a nice, peaceful slumber.

Her eyelids begin to droop.

_Don't go to sleep, _her mind hisses. _You'll never wake up._

Actually, the idea of never waking up seems quite appealing right now. The whole idea of sleep (just that one word, _sleep_) just seems like the best thing in the world.

She feels content, at peace.

Sure, there's pain, but it numbs and she just feels warm and content and fuzzy and…

* * *

In the moments Two is dying, she reflects. Unlike the Garde before her, everything hurts. The pain is intense and she can barely think through the searing agony.

Her mind is hazy, but she's dying, so she retreats into her mind and just _thinks_…

Thinks about how unfair this all is. Thinks about what a pathetic excuse for a life she has. Thinks about how her petty, miserable life was never really worth living, anyway. Thinks about how Conrad is probably dead and she's going to die at twelve, _twelve _goddammit.

And that's her life. Twelve short, invisible years that made no impact on anyone.

That right there is the joke. Her death is the punchline.

She's leaving this world, and can't really bring herself to fight back any longer because she was never really living.

_Just let go, Two, _her mind whispers. _You were never that important, anyway. _

* * *

As Three fades away, he can't bring himself to regret anything that he's ever done, anything that ever happened, anything that eventually led to his death.

He would have died young whatever happened, let's face it. If anything, it's a miracle he lasted this long.

He's dying and he knows it, but he can't be pessimistic. He's an optimist. He has to have hope. He has to have faith.

Hope. Everyone's had that, once. He still does.

Just hope. No pain. Just hope.

Hope. Just hope.

Just hope.

Hope.

Just…

Just hope…

Hope…

Hope.

Just have hope.

Just keep hoping.

Just hope…

Just…

Hope…

Just hope just…

Just…

Jus…

* * *

Eight dying makes him feel every emotion in about ten seconds.

Firstly, he's sad. He's leaving Marina, he's going to die (of course he's sad)… Basically one of his worst nightmares.

Second, he feels happy. The others are still alive and he even saved one of them. He can leave his life in peace.

Third of all, he's proud. Proud of himself for saving Nine, proud of Marina for helping them hinder Five. Proud of every single Garde and all their allies (Five excluded).

Angry. He feels anger at Five for betraying them, for trying to kill Nine, for actually killing _him_.

Despair. He's going to die.

Peace. He won't have to worry about the war or the Mogs or _anything_, really.

Love for Marina, Number Seven. One of, possibly _the most_, amazing girls around.

Fury. He's seventeen. Never been to school. Not had any friends until about a week ago. He's socially awkward, believe it or not. Never even lived in a proper house, really. There was no house with Reynolds. That was a grungy room. Nine's place can't really be called a 'house'. In fact, even though he's pretty sure he had a house on Lorien, he can't remember what it was like.

He's furious that his life, _all _of their lives, were really crappy.

Horror. After everything he's done, he's going to die on some island, surrounded by flies and monstrous alligators.

He's horrified that it's all coming to the end.

The tenth, last, and most overwhelming emotion he feels is death. Death is, no matter whatever anyone might say, definitely an emotion. Perhaps the strongest of all of them. It's the one that claims your soul at the end. It's the one that makes you look back in perspective and see your life for what it really is.

His life is really dramatic, he realises. It's like something out of a film.

But this isn't a film. Films have happy endings. In films, the main characters don't die before the end of the story.

He feels all ten of these emotions in just ten seconds.

10…

He's so sad.

9…

But he's happy.

8…

He's proud.

7…

Angry.

6…

There is despair.

5…

Peace overtakes his mind.

4…

He loves her so much.

3…

Fury. His life is pathetic.

2…

He's horrified.

1…

And, oh god, he's going to _die_…

0…

* * *

Four Garde died. And not one of them had ever really lived.

* * *

Not everyone gets a second chance. After death, no one has ever gotten another chance.

* * *

But startling green eyes shoot open, and the clock that started counting down starts to reverse.

* * *

Then it counts forward.

* * *

As his shuttle flies (well, falls) towards the ground at hundreds of millions of miles an hour, he screams.

Yes, it seems childish and immature, but god, he's going to die _again _without anyone knowing and _god_, it's scary.

Honestly, he didn't even realise how high up he actually _was _until he was suddenly falling from there. Apparently, Setrakus Ra thought it would be a good idea to park in the _sky_.

Apparently, Rexicus Saturnus thought it would be a good idea to _eject him out_ of the ship.

He hadn't realised that was what the Mogodorian was doing, but now it's blatantly obvious. Rexicus Saturnus was just trying to kill him off, Setrakus Ra wouldn't allow it, and so Rexicus Saturnus decided to take matters into his own hands.

(And _why _do they all have to have long and complicated names?)

Unlike last time, Eight's mind is completely taken up by the thought that he is going to _die_, so no emotions (other than complete, absolute terror) manage to worm themselves into his head.

That, and the fact that he's probably going to die.

Dying was not a pleasant experience last time, and certainly not one he would wish to relive (and how ironic that sentence is…) It's painful, needless to say, and it brings your whole world crashing down around you, but at least the first time he had hope that there would be something better afterwards. Now that he's already died once and there was nothing, that doesn't appear to be the case.

He can hear the wind whistling in his ears. It's louder than you'd expect, and it gets under his skin. As if it isn't bad enough that he's falling to the ground with the wind in his face, _even though _he's inside, he can _hear _the wind as well.

Great. Just great.

The image of Marina somehow floats to the front of his mind, and he can't help a smile. She's so beautiful, on the inside and the out. He just wishes he could see her again, one last time.

He's currently lying on the floor, seeing as how he fell out of his wheelchair the moment the shuttle began shooting down towards the earth a god-knows-how-many-miles-an-hour. A quick peek out the window reveals that world spinning, making him want to hurl rather violently.

Still, he can see that he's now closer to the ground than he was before.

(Whether that's a good or a bad thing, he can't really tell.)

Even if he survives, he can't help but think, who's to say that he'll actually be able to get up and move? He's been stuck in a wheelchair ever since he woke up, and he'll probably be injured in the crash. The Mogs will probably come straight back to claim him, anyway, and he'll most likely lose the little freedom he had.

But it'd be worth it, if only to get one over them.

(But if he sees Rexicus Saturnus, injured or not, he's going to punch him.)

He's getting close the ground now, he can tell. He's smarter than he lets on, especially with having seen the outside.

In a last ditch attempt to slow his fall, he thrusts his hands out and closes his eyes, trying to tap into his telekinesis. He's been trying to use his powers ever since he woke up, and, maybe now that his life is in fatal danger, his legacies will suddenly kick in and start working.

But, alas, nothing happens.

He sighs in frustration, opening his eyes and bringing his arms back close to him. He's sliding about on the floor, being pushed up but desperately grabbing onto the console (or at least, he assumes that's what it is).

It's getting close to impact now. He desperately scans all the controls to see if there's any way he can stop or go up, but of course, it's all in Mogodorian.

Well, damn it.

He only just has time to notice that outside he's surrounded by trees before the shuttle smashes into the ground and he slams up and then down again, his head banging on the metal floor.

* * *

There is silence in the Everglades. Something crashed there just moments ago, something big. It's still smoking from where it made a dent in the ground.

A bird hops about around the edge of it, being careful not to fall in. It can see that there is someone trapped in wreckage, unconscious.

The bird flies off, and there is silence in the Everglades.

* * *

As Eight wakes up, the smell of smoke fills his nostrils. It stings his eyes as he slowly opens them, and he's forced to hastily shut them again.

Something's burning, he can tell. Something close to him. He forces his eyes back open and looks to the side to see his wheelchair burning.

Great.

"Well," comes out of his moth, so at least he can talk. "I'm alive, then."

It seems like he has a new hobby of defying death. That's… cool. Of course, he'd rather not die/almost die, but if he's going to this would be a nice thing to be good at. Not dying.

Do the other Garde even know that he's alive? He knows Five does, but do the others? Does Marina?

Is he about to die now?

There's a lot of wreckage above him, he notes but there are definite large gaps, probably where the air is coming from. He probably won't be able to move the wreckage that much, but if he can just shift it a little bit than he should be able to crawl out.

Assuming that he's completely able-bodied, of course.

(With his luck, he probably won't be.)

* * *

Marina is sick and tired of everyone treating her like she's going to snap at any second.

They're all handling her warily, like a fragile doll they don't want to break. It's stupid, really. She needs comfort right now, not to be pushed away.

Hopefully this won't sound strange, but she's not actually feeling all that bad, to be honest. Sure, she misses Eight, but it just feels as though he's gone away somewhere, not like he's dead. Not like he's never coming back.

She'd know if he was dead, she's sure of it. She'd feel it in her heart. And her heart is telling her that he's still out there somewhere.

The others don't believe her. They've met up with them now, with the addition of the Mog, Adamus, who is feeling guilty that he didn't get to them soon enough to save Eight. The others, apart from Malcolm and Sam, are treating him even warier than her. They think he's a traitor to them, even though it's pretty obvious that he's on their side.

She pretty much ignores his presence, and everyone else's, really. She just goes and sits in Eight's room, which she insisted they make in the large house they're staying in. They all managed to sneak in and go through the rubble of Nine's old penthouse, and she snagged all of his stuff. His room, much to her delight, was pretty much the only one that remained intact.

She closes her eyes and tries to imagine what he's doing right now, trying to ignore the voice in her head telling her that he's dead and she's never going to get him back.

She refuses to be the curse that ended _another_ person's life.

* * *

Adorai has many benefits, among them being that, even when the two lovers are separated, they will inevitably find their ways back to each other.

A downside is that the connection is _very _strong. As in, if one is hurt, the other can just sense it. And if one dies, a part of the other dies with them.

Numbers Seven and Eight had always been close, even at a young age. They never wanted to part. Meeting up years later was a chance for them to resume their friendship, with her having grown into a beautiful young woman and him into a handsome young man.

And, ever since he first kissed her, even as an act of gratitude, it was clear that each had already met their Adorai, at just seventeen years old.

* * *

Eight stretches his arms up, glad that he had enough room to move that much, and that his arms are actually working.

He tries pressing upwards on the piece of metal above him, straining to shift it just a little. It didn't move an inch.

He glances at the big gap a little while down from him. It will be effort to get to, and will take a lot of manoeuvring, but he should be able to do it.

Awkwardly, he shifts himself so he's facing the other way. The gap is now above his head, and when he looks up he can see the Mogodorian ship floating really high up in the sky.

(And, yes, his legs have somehow begun to work again, admittedly not very strongly.)

His arms rise up again, this time to shove the wreckage slightly away and make the hole bigger. It works, albeit only because he used all of his strength.

In fact, he has to lie there panting for a couple minutes before he can even _think _about moving again.

With a deep breath, he hoists himself up and out of the hole.

The sight that greets him is enough to make him want to crawl back inside.

There's a crater around where the shuttle crashed, said shuttles twisted and burning. He notices that the fire is horribly close to invading where he was just lying, and can only be thankful that he's actually out now.

Climbing out of the wreckage is possibly one of the hardest things he's ever had to do. Even if his legs weren't really dodgy, it'd still be hard to shift things and climb over pieces of metal with sharp and jagged edges. It doesn't help that occasionally the metal he'll try and move will turn out to be scalding hot, and he'll have to quickly retract his hand and wish there was a tap he could run it under.

By the time he's out and at the top of the small crater, he's completely and utterly spent. He flops down on the ground, exhausted, grateful his legs have finally begun working, otherwise he would have been screwed.

He's tired, and he just wants to sleep, but he knows that he has to keep moving. If he doesn't, a Mogodorian is bound to come and capture him, and all of this will have been for nothing.

But his legs ache – all of him aches, actually. The pain in his chest that appears when he's tired is there, a stab of pain that makes him feel as though he's being murdered by Five all over again.

To be honest, he's surprised that he wasn't actually injured in the crash – if anything, he's gotten stronger, his legs now working for him.

His leg_acies_ might not have kicked in yet, but at least the use of his _legs _has.

* * *

People who have found their Adorai often have happy endings.

Occasionally, yes, one will die and leave the other one all alone, but it is much more common for the two to settle down together and get their happy endings.

Lorien, the planet, seems to agree with this. Especially when it's two young, innocent souls who deserve a happy ending.

_**Thanks for reading! Not so sure if this as good as the last chapters, but it's a update, so... **_


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